


Lovestruck, Again

by woozdum



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Family Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 02:33:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12717888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woozdum/pseuds/woozdum
Summary: More than anything, he just wants a second chance. A second chance to fall in love. A second chance to be a good father. A second chance to be happy.He wants a second chance so he can do it right.(Mingyu's the one getting the degree but it seems like they're all graduating from something)





	Lovestruck, Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hoshitalk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoshitalk/gifts).



> sica-  
> its a day late but anyway hbd hubz ilu this isn't the jnghun i promised that was too hard but i tried very hard i hope u enjoy this ilu ok bye
> 
> everyone else-  
> hi this was inspired by seventeen again (the better, tia/tamera mowry version) also that movie lovestruck the musical if you've seen any of these you'll know i'm unoriginal also im bad w tenses sry

It’s not that Jisoo isn’t excited to be back home, of course he is. It’s his son’s graduation, how could he not be? There are just a few memories that are better left behind, and coming back inevitably drudges them all back up. 

 

He settles into the guest room Mingyu has set up for him, and looks around. He hasn’t been in this house in years but he still remembers that the third stair from the top creaks if it’s stepped on too hard, that the doorknob of the guest bathroom is holding together more by willpower than by actual screws, and that the rug in the family room is to cover up the acetone stained into the wood floor. The kitchen fridge still has notes on it, groceries, to-do lists, little pick-me-ups and encouraging messages, and he misses it. The family life, the omnipresent love and warmth that surrounds the house, the domesticity of it all. 

 

More than anything, he misses Mingyu. He knows there’s a little resentment lingering, what with the split, him taking Seokmin, only seeing Mingyu during vacation days, winter, spring, July, and weekends when he’s in the country. Skype calls and texts can never really make up for Jisoo not being around as much as he should have been, but Mingyu, too old and wise for his years, always assures him that he understands. 

 

A son reassuring his father that it’s okay, Jisoo snorts. That’s exactly how it should be. 

 

He hears a thud and a groan, followed by Mingyu and Seokmin giggling uncontrollably, and he feels an involuntary tear roll down his cheek. 

 

Some things are better left behind, no regrets.

* * *

There are four plates set at the square table, and as he sits, he notices Mingyu and Seokmin naturally flank him on either side. 

 

He knows what it means, that their father is coming, that this will be the first actual at home meal they’re having as a family since who knows when. He feels that, somehow, it’s all his fault.

 

Mingyu and Seokmin are talking about something, the future or the past or girlfriends, boyfriends, Jisoo doesn’t really know. His hands are placed in his lap, clenched together, eyebrows furrowed as he tries to imagine how this night will pan out.

 

“It’s gonna be okay, dad.” Seokmin says, shrugging, “We’re here to buffer.”

 

Mingyu nods, reaching over to ruffle Jisoo’s hair, a childhood habit he’s never really grown out of. “Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you two are okay.”

 

Mingyu doesn’t call him dad often, doesn’t always seem to accept him as a father figure the way Seokmin does his other dad. 

 

Seungcheol. 

 

There’s no use avoiding his name anymore.

 

Jisoo closes his eyes, lips twitching into a small smile. It’s a little sad, he knows, because Seokmin’s breath hitches and he cuts off of whatever he was about to say.

 

The silence that follows is stifling, and it makes Seokmin and him jump when Mingyu’s phone buzzes against the table.

 

“Uh,” Mingyu’s eyes are furrowed as he peers at his phone, “Appa says he has to stay late at work and that we should eat without him. Also he, um, says ‘hi, Seokminnie.’”

 

Both of them glance at Jisoo who must look as uncomfortable as he feels.

 

“Well, you heard the man,” he forces out a chuckle, “Let’s eat.”

* * *

Family dinners are a rarity in the Hong-Choi catastrophe. Mingyu and Seokmin catch up, though its all for show since they’re always texting each other anyway. Jisoo chimes in every now and again, but he can tell that it isn’t necessarily welcome. 

 

He has a hard time understanding Mingyu. How to interact with him, how to support him, how to show his son how much he loves him. It isn’t easy the way it’s been with Seokmin. 

 

The last time they did this was for Seokmin’s graduation, two years ago. That was a different kind of stressful, pretending to be a normal family, trying not to bring up old fights and worries, trying to maintain the peace. It was challenging, but this time around, it seems like it’ll be ten times worse.

 

To be fair, though, Seokmin and Mingyu have always been quite different, yet all too similar. Where Mingyu is cool and confident, Seokmin is clumsy and confused. Mingyu always holds himself with a specific disposition, self assured but never cocky, kind but never a pushover. He commands himself with a certain kind of assuredness that’s always propelled him forward, always kept him from being stagnant or settling for less. 

 

He’s got Seungcheol’s attitude,  Jisoo’s drive, and neither of their height. 

 

He’s cute, though, in ways that make him almost like a small child. Always pouting when things are unfair, always huffing around and complaining when he feels wronged. It’s this aspect of his personality that’s always made it so easy for him to be around Seokmin.

 

Seokmin, who is timid and shy, talented but hesitant, too loud because he can’t read the room, has always been fond of Mingyu’s tantrums. He says it’s because it makes Mingyu more personable, less unreachable. His Seokmin has always needed reassurance, affection, pampering, needs to make everyone smile because he hurts when the people he loves are unhappy. 

 

He’s Jisoo with Seungcheol’s heart and smile. 

 

Mingyu’s graduation has been a long time coming. He started out as a business major, following in the footsteps of his fathers, before switching to chemistry and food science somewhere during his third year. 

 

Jisoo remembers the long nights they’d spend, while he and Seokmin had work nights and Mingyu stayed up studying for exams. He remembers the night when Mingyu applied for graduate schools, for K-8 education, and he remembers the rejections and acceptances. He remembers the longer work nights, the complaining and the bonding. 

 

He remembers the wistful, almost jealous smile on Mingyu’s face when Seokmin would ramble on and on about his time with Seungcheol. He remembers the pangs of regret he’d feel when Seokmin came back from vacations with him.

 

He remembers that he hasn’t showered since the night before, hasn’t done anything but pee since getting off the plane hours ago, and gets up immediately. 

 

Water droplets fall off his body, and he can’t help but choke up a little. Here he is, in his family’s home, resigned to the guest bedroom, bathroom. It’s his own fault, likely. He’s never been too good at keeping things that matter in tact. He lathers soap, rubbing himself raw in an almost self loathing manner. It’s a weird tingly soap. He’s not sure if he likes it. 

 

He’s not sure of much these days.

* * *

Jisoo wakes up incredibly sore and hungover, like his bones have been stretched, extended beyond capability. His heart beats hard in his chest and when he runs his hand through his hair he doesn’t feel the mid-life crisis inducing bald spot he’s been just barely growing. In fact, he feels thicker hair than he’s become accustomed to. He blinks, groggily and grabs his phone to check out the situation. Flipping to his camera app, he notices so much hair, and then a slender nose, wrinkle free eyes, and smooth, clear skin. 

 

He looks young. Like thirty years too young. Like he’s a seventeen year old boy again.

 

What the fuck? 

 

Jisoo panics, fumbling to untangle himself from the bed covers and runs to the bathroom. But his reflection hasn’t changed, he still looks too young. 

 

He swears he won’t scream. He’s a forty-seven year old man, goddamn it. He can handle a little age regression. It’s no big deal.

 

Except he spends the next twenty minutes in the bathroom alternating between hyperventilating and testing the limits of his new body. (He can do the worm again, something he stopped being able to do when he turned thirty-three).

 

“Dad, are you ok?” Seokmin tentatively knocks on the door. “Are you feeling well? Mingu and I were going to get some decorations for the party, should I get you meds?”

 

“I’m fine, Seok,” Oh hell, even his voice has changed. 

 

Seokmin can tell too, because he responds slowly, “You sound different. Are you sure you’re okay?”

 

The door knob rattles slightly, and Jisoo panics. Pitching his voice down, he stutters out, “I’m really fine, I promise. Just tired from the flying and everything. I’m not as young as I used to be, you know.”

 

He glances at the mirror and flinches. 

 

“Okay, if you’re sure. Text me or Mingu if you need anything.”

 

“Mhm.” Jisoo says distractedly, still checking himself out. “Have fun.”

 

“Yeah, thanks? We’ll see you later dad.” He hears Seokmin’s retreating footsteps and lets out a deep breath. 

 

He brushes his teeth and washes his face, before resolving to get out of the house to figure out what happened to him.

 

Jisoo’s brilliant idea is to hide out at the community swimming pool, with shades and a big floppy hat to aid him in his disguise.

 

He lounges around, restlessly trying to make sense of himself, when the aftershock of a child’s cannonball dive into the pool splashes directly onto him. 

 

Sighing, he gets up to make his way to the changing rooms.

 

“Shua?” 

 

_ Fuck. _ He forgot about Seungcheol.  _ How  _ did he forget about Seungcheol?

 

His voice sounds incredulous, surprised and in awe as he tentatively approaches Jisoo, “That  _ has _ to be you. I’d know those legs anywhere.” 

 

Jisoo starts walking away, head down. He’s more agile in this younger body, his bones no longer groan at the thought of movement and he doesn’t need to catch his breath as he swiftly walks around the pool area. 

 

“Shua, we haven’t seen each other in years, where do you think you’re going?” The tugging on his arm, the way Seungcheol can still keep up with him, it makes his stomach clench painfully. He’s turned around and there are warm palms on either side of his face, maneuvering him so that he’s eye to eye with his ex. 

 

“I, um,” he winces at how oddly youthful his voice sounds, “I’m not Shua, I’m, um-”

 

“-the spitting image of my husband- well, ex-husband, but that’s besides the point. You look just like him from when he was like seventeen,” Seungcheol interrupts, his eyes widening in disbelief, “That’s fucking-” he turns Jisoo’s head from side to side, thoroughly confused. 

 

Jisoo continues to shift and squirm under Seungcheol’s scrutiny. When he readied himself for this wedding, he was banking on avoiding Seungcheol all weekend long. 

 

He needs to get out of there, fast. 

 

“Um,” he clears his throat awkwardly, “Excuse me, mister? Can you please stop touching my face? I need to go.”

 

It’s ridiculously funny (and a little bittersweet) how fast Seungcheol drops his hands and steps away from Jisoo. 

 

“Oh wow, sorry. That was, um,” Seungcheol clears his throat while rubbing his head. He, then, shoots Jisoo a sheepish smile, one that causes the younger to blush involuntarily before his lips drop to a grimace. “What did you say your name was again?”

 

Fuck. 

 

Jisoo panics, mind racing because he clearly didn’t think this through, didn’t think his alibi through, so instead he blurts out, “I’m, um, not supposed to talk to strangers. Bye.”

* * *

Jisoo manages to avoid Seungcheol on the way back home, where he instead finds his sons cooking in the kitchen.

 

Slowly, he opens the front door and slips inside, relaxing when Seokmin’s belting covers the sound of the door closing. He’s about to make a break for it when the garage door opens and Seungcheol and he make direct eye contact.

 

Seungcheol’s face goes slack and Jisoo knows he’s screwed. Instead of facing it head on, he bolts up the stairs and he knows that Seungcheol is giving chase by Mingyu’s confused shout at the sudden thudding on the stairs.

 

Somehow for the second time that day, Jisoo finds himself hyperventilating in the bathroom.

 

“Shua, I know it’s you. You can’t avoid me forever.” Seungcheol’s voice is a cross between exasperated and amused, and it makes Jisoo pout as he leans against the door that much more. 

 

Jisoo clears his throat, pitching his voice up, “I don’t know what you mean. Go away, you’re hallucinating.” Jisoo holds his breath, because the door handle stops rattling and he takes a deep breath. 

 

“Alright, you win. I won’t bother you anymore.” Seungcheol seemingly walks away, because Jisoo can hear fading footsteps and he takes a breath, getting off the floor and slowly opening the door to peek out.

 

It, inevitably, turns out to be the  _ wrong _ move to make, seeing how Seungcheol’s face is right there and his reflexes are faster than Jisoo’s basic motor skills and he has the door open, pushing Jisoo’s body inside the bathroom where the latter has taken to hiding. 

 

“I knew it.” 

 

It’s his own fault, really, falling for such a textbook fakeout. 

 

Jisoo sighs getting up to walk towards his room, “Shut up, Cheol. You don’t  _ know _ anything.”

 

“I know you’re young.”

 

“Well, gosh. Thanks for that, I’ve really been into skincare these days. All those anti-aging masks must really be doing wonders.” Jisoo mutters sarcastically, his stomach dropping as he sees Seungcheol putting the pieces together.

 

“Shua, what did you do,” the elder eventually looks up, eyes wide and confused, “Also, and more importantly,  _ how _ did you do-” he gestures to Jisoo’s face. 

 

And so Jisoo launches into the story of how this is his life now.

 

“You’re telling me, you came here a forty-seven year old man, and are now seventeen again?” Seungcheol scoffs, “Be honest. Did you sell your organs for surgery.”

 

“Shut the fuck up, okay. I don’t know what’s happening. All I know is our son is graduating and only one of his dads will be there because the other one is young and tweenish.” Jisoo flops onto the bed, face first. 

 

He feels a weight on the bed next to him, and a hand tentatively strokes his head, “It’ll be okay. We’ll figure something out. It’ll be fine.”

m

They sit like that, neither of them really moving or speaking, and it’s both comforting and weird at the same time.

 

Eventually, Jisoo snorts, raising his head enough to look up at Seungcheol. “This is the first time we’re actually talking to each other in years and you smell like crap. Go take a shower.”

* * *

Somehow, between the chasing, commiserating, and Seungcheol’s shower, they both fall asleep on Jisoo’s bed. 

 

Jisoo gets up first, or at least tries to, seeing as he’s unable to move. He turns his head to see the culprit face first in his pillow, drooling no doubt. 

 

“Seungcheol” Jisoo hisses, throwing another pillow at the man who makes a few disoriented grumbles before pushing his face deeper into his pillow.

 

“Seungcheol, wake. Up. Right. Now,” he enunciates each word, accenting each with a wack from his pillow. 

 

“What the-?” he quickly grabs Jisoo’s hand and yanks the younger down next to him. “Shut up, old man. It’s time for sleep.”

 

Jisoo struggles under the strong, muscular arm, and grunts when a leg is thrown over him. He takes a quick breath and pauses his spasms long enough to let his eyes roam across the elder's face. Gone are the wrinkles and fine lines, the gray patches of hair and worn out features. Instead, his stomach clenches with butterflies that are all too nostalgic, and he lifts his hand to caress his cheek. It used to be Jisoo’s favorite, because as he’d hold Seungcheol’s face, the latter would break out into a smile, and Jisoo would take great pleasure in poking his dimple. He looks so young and youthful and lively. He misses that. 

 

Seungcheol’s snoring snaps him out of his reverie and he pushes the sleeping man’s arm to his mouth and bites down as hard as he can.

 

“What the fucking hell!” Seungcheol pushes Jisoo off the bed and clutches his arm to his body. “What is wrong with you?”

 

“What’s wrong with  _ me _ ? What’s wrong with  _ you.” _ He points up at Seungcheol accusingly, peering up at his face.

 

“I’m not the one who’s suddenly thirty years younger.” Seungcheol retorts, reaching over for his glasses. Jisoo knows that they’re new, because the elder can’t type at his computer all day without them. So he’s not surprised when Seungcheol slips them on and is confused by how blurry everything is. He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. Jisoo watches, biting his lip, waiting for the inevitable. 

 

“Soo?” His voice is groggy and disoriented, but panicked nonetheless, “Why can’t I see?” He continues putting his glasses back on and taking them off again while Jisoo waits patiently. He finally removes his glasses, blinking the sleep out of his eyes and stares at Jisoo accusingly. “What did you do?”

 

“It’s not my fault, I swear.” Jisoo holds his hands up in surrender, “I don’t know how this happened, but at least we’re in it together.”

 

He smiles sheepishly as Seungcheol’s eyes narrow. Quietly, he tosses Seungcheol his phone and watches the flurry of emotions that passes across the latter’s face.

 

His voice is tight when he speaks next.

 

“Hey Shua?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I’m going to close my eyes now. If I’m still  a seventeen year old boy when I open them, I will scream very,  _ very _ loudly.”

 

He opens his eyes and Jisoo can only look at him helplessly. The thing is, though, that Seungcheol is a rather honest man so, true to his word, he screams very,  _ very  _ loudly. 

 

It causes Mingyu and Seokmin to burst into their room moments later.

 

“What the fuck?”

 

Jisoo and Seungcheol look at each other.

 

“Hi kids. We’re your dads.”

* * *

Their kids take it pretty well. 

 

Or at least they will once they’re done being awestruck by their teenage parents. 

 

“How the heck did this happen?” Seokmin says, eyes growing impossibly large. He stands up, stepping towards Jisoo with outstretched arms, and, without warning, squishes his father’s cheeks together. “This is unreal. Dad, you were so cute back in the day.” He turns Jisoo’s head to one side, “Like a baby.” He then turns it to the other, “With twinkly eyes. Mingu, come look at Dad’s eyes.” 

 

They turn to look at Mingyu scrutinizing his other father, “Wow. I really was adopted, huh.” He circles Seungcheol slowly, “‘Pa, do muscles just disappear with time? You look so-” he makes vague motions, “-boxy. Like a cube. Seokminnie, our parents are Cubeman and Twinkle Toes.”

 

“Well, actually, I said Dad has twinkly ey- No you’re right, Twinkle Toes sounds much better.” 

 

Seungcheol lets out an exasperated sigh. “Now that we’ve all gotten acquainted,” he points at Mingyu, “What the hell did you do?” 

 

Mingyu squawks, “Me? Why is it automatically  _ my _ fault? Seokmin could have done something too.” They all look at him until he nods in acquiescence. “Okay, yeah, it was probably me. Though I don’t see  _ how  _ I could create a reverse aging solution. I’m going to be a chemistry teacher, I don’t get it?”

 

Mingyu’s eyebrows furrow, the corners of his lips turning down into a frown, and he looks at them helplessly.

 

“Um,” Seokmin pauses, “What did you do before this happened?”

 

Jisoo stops and thinks. He unpacked, had dinner, angsted, and then showered. 

 

“I showered. There was some soap in the bathroom that was all weird and tingly.”

 

Seungcheol nods aggressively, “Yeah, I used it too, I just thought it was mint.”

 

Jisoo rolls his eyes, “Why on earth would soap be minty? Honestly, Cheol.”

 

Eying the both of them suspiciously, Mingyu runs to grab the bar of soap, plopping it in a ziploc baggie.  

 

“I still have access to the campus labs, I might be able to figure out if the soap caused this.” He ruffles Jisoo’s hair again, reaching over instinctively before yanking his hand back. “Sorry Jisoo, this is just really weird.”

 

Jisoo. Sometimes, he really hates his name when it comes out of Mingyu’s mouth like that, distant and offensive. Something must give him away because Seungcheol pokes him in the side, telling him to  _ cut it out _ . 

 

“Ah, it’s fine, Mingu.”

 

He doesn’t know who he’s convincing, Mingyu, himself, or Seokmin, who’s eye twitches at his father’s reaction. 

 

“Right, um,” Jisoo looks up at his son, and there’s a weird tension that he can’t seem to place. Somehow, it feels like he’s lost Mingyu even more. 

 

Seokmin’s eyes narrow and his mouth is set in a tight line. 

 

“Mingyu, can I talk to you in the kitchen please.”

 

Jisoo slaps his hand over Seungcheol’s mouth as they both move to follow, because Seungcheol wants nothing more than to meddle. He grimaces when the latter instinctively licks it as a way to get him to let go. 

 

“Would it kill you,” Seokmin bites out. “to treat dad like he’s your actual fucking dad?”

 

“He’s fine when I call him Jisoo. And either way, I don’t feel comfortable calling him dad when he looks like that.” 

 

“Firstly, no, he isn’t okay with it. It fucking kills him. But he accepts it because it’s you and he’d accept anything you do. And secondly, you had no problem with Appa.”

 

“It’s not so easy for me. Not the way it is for you,” Mingyu scoffs, making his brother’s eyes narrow.

 

“What the fuck does that mean?”

 

Jisoo and Seungcheol glance over at each other, neither of them daring to say a thing.

 

“Appa has always treated you as a son-”

 

“-Because I  _ am _ his son-”

 

“-while  _ Jisoo _ and I are like-”

 

“-You’re just going to call him Jisoo? Are you really that disresp-”

 

“-Yes. Yes I am just going to call him Jisoo because I don’t know how to treat him like a father. That’s the face of the guy who left me and my dad so long ago. And sure I’ve come to peace with it, but I can’t face him like that.” Mingyu rubs his eyes, “We’ve never been close- sometimes I don’t even know if he loves me.” Mingyu’s breaths are shallow and rapid, and Jisoo’s nails are digging into his palm, eyes focusing anywhere but Seungcheol’s knowing gaze. 

 

He’s hurt his Mingyu so much, though he doesn’t really know if he has the right to call Mingyu his anymore. 

 

Seokmin, however, doesn’t seem to care. 

 

“He’d sacrifice sleep to stay up late on days he didn’t even have work just to spend time with you. He hung up scans of every certificate or picture you or Appa would send him in our living room. He buys a cake every year on your birthday, red velvet because you like the icing, and we cut it at midnight your time even though you sleep through it because it would kill you to set an alarm. He brags about you at work so much, people think I’m you.” Seokmin’s voice wavers with each sentence, “He might not be the best at showing it to you, but you closed yourself off from him a long time ago. You think Appa and I would be okay if I didn’t keep coming back here to spend time with you?” He huffs, shaking his head, “Get off your fucking high horse. Yeah, sure, dad messed up not being as involved with you as he could’ve been, but you haven’t exactly been receptive and willing either.

 

“I get that it’s hard to accept our family for what it is, but if you have a problem with him, you should talk about it. Nothing ever gets fixed by bottling it up. You of all people should know that.”

 

“It figures that you’d take his side.” Jisoo can hear Mingyu’s glare, he can see the defensive stance the latter is taking on, “Whatever, I’m just gonna go down to the lab and run some tests.”

 

“Yeah, that sounds like a great plan,” Seokmin bites out, sarcastically. 

 

Jisoo and Seungcheol remain there quietly as both sons storm out of the house. And that’s when all hell breaks loose. 

 

“I can’t believe that just happened,” Seungcheol mutters. 

 

Jisoo barely makes a sound, instead moving towards the kitchen. 

 

“Don’t just walk away.” Seungcheol hisses, following Jisoo. “How is it that I’ve been living here for the past twenty something years, but the minute you come back, everything in this house goes fucking haywire?” 

 

“Me?” Jisoo whirls around, bumping into Seungcheol. Neither of them move, too tense, too heated, too close to the tipping point, “I didn’t fucking do this,  _ your _ son did this, with his hocus pocus chemistry bullshit.”

 

“Of course.”

 

Jisoo stumbles, confused. “Excuse me?”

 

“I said, ‘Of course.’ As in, of course he’s my son. I fucking raised him, because someone took half my family and left,” Seungcheol jabs a finger in his chest.

 

“That is unfair,” Jisoo rips out, pushing Seungcheol’s finger away from him, never moving back, never pushing forward. “You don’t get to fucking say that to me.”

 

“Why?” Seungcheol scoffs, “It’s true, isn’t it? Jisoo, with the successful job and the perfect life. Why don’t you go back to it, instead of slumming it with the people you so easily abandoned.”

 

Jisoo feels the heat coil inside of him, he feels the bile rising, and he knows Seungcheol is saying it mostly to get a reaction out of him, to make him hurt. The pressure is building and he doesn’t know when he will snap, when their relationship becomes irreparable. 

 

“Mingyu is  _ my  _ son. I brought him up, raised him, put the money together to give him parties, holidays, experiences that can’t be bought. You don’t get to claim and unclaim his as you please. Not when you already abandoned him all those years ago. You don’t get to be upset.”

 

Snap.

 

“Of course I can’t. I can’t do that, I can’t be upset because  _ I’m _ a forty-seven year old man trapped in  _ my  _ seventeen year old body with  _ my _ ex who-”

 

“-Hate to break it to you, pissy, but I’m in the exact same shit as y-”

 

“I can’t be anything  _ but  _ a stranger to my own family. I can’t bridge the distances between my own son and me. I can’t even use the fucking bathroom without wanting to cry because I regret it all so much.” Jisoo lets out a tired sigh and whispers, “I can’t do anything.”

 

Jisoo’s breaths come out short, rapid, and heavy, and he tries his best to even them out, but it’s hard when Seungcheol’s gaze on him is patient, quiet, waiting.

 

Seconds pass, or maybe they’re minutes or hours. Jisoo can’t be sure. He takes a deep breath in and holds it, shutting his eyes so the tears stay trapped. He feels a loss of warmth as Seungcheol seemingly takes a step back. He doesn’t know, his eyes refuse to open.

 

“Well you can throw yourself this pity party, and maybe when you’re done-”

 

“-Maybe when I’m done, I’ll just leave. How about that, Seungcheol? Maybe after I see  _ my  _ son - because he is still my son, despite whatever you and he may think-” He bites out carefully, his eyes settling for the impassive stare he knows Seungcheol could never read. “Maybe once I see him graduate, I’ll get out of your hair forever. We spent this long without ever having to see each other, and now I remember why, all over again.” 

 

He takes a step back from Seungcheol, whose lips flicker down just the slightest. After they separated, Jisoo could never understand Seungcheol the way he once could, but this Seungcheol, with his face so young and brain to muscle twitch function so familiar, Jisoo knows he’s hit home. 

 

That’s good though, because Seungcheol swung just as hard in the first place. 

 

“You know,” Jisoo lets out a self deprecating chuckle, “Despite it all, you’ve always been Seokmin’s dad. They’ve always been ours, and I always thought that was the one thing we could agree on. The one thing we got right, considering that you-” he shakes his head, “Nevermind.”

 

“Considering that I what,” Seungcheol’s voice is tight but curious. 

 

Jisoo smiles softly, turning away from Seungcheol, “Considering that I thought you’d keep your promise and follow me anywhere. Considering that I thought we were indestructible, forever. Considering I thought  _ you _ were the one thing I got right, Seungcheol.”

 

The worst part of it all, Jisoo doesn’t say, is that he’s still in love with Seungcheol, even after all this time.

* * *

Dinner is a tense situation following that, but no one can really ease the tension. Seokmin and Mingyu are barely speaking, but Seungcheol won’t talk and Jisoo simply can’t.

 

“So, um, the soap is just soap. I’m not sure what the tingling is, but it’s not some kind of chemical reaction or anything,” Mingyu bites his lip, “I’m sorry I don’t have more. I’ll keep looking into it.”

 

“Maybe it’s magic,” Seokmin waggles his eyebrows. “Maybe you were both cursed by the bathtub wizard, and now you need to fulfill some kind of quest in order to-”

 

Mingyu snorts, and just like that the tension starts ebbing away between them. 

 

“Yeah, maybe all it takes is a magic kiss between Appa and dad to make it all better.”

 

Jisoo startles at that, in part because the idea of kissing Seungcheol has been firmly planted into his mind since their argument earlier, but mostly because Mingyu called him dad.

 

It stuns him so much that somehow he winds up doing the dishes by himself, conned by the rest with a game of Not It. 

 

Mingyu steps inside and starts drying as he rinses. 

 

“Mingyu,” Jisoo starts, “It’s okay if you call me Jisoo. I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

 

“What if I want to call you dad?” Mingyu teases, grinning down at his dad. “Seokmin is right. It wasn’t fair of me to make you feel bad to try to justify my pain. I’m too old for teen angst.” He snorts, “You, however.”

 

Jisoo shoves him slightly, “Shut up. You’re grounded.”

 

Mingyu lets out a laugh, shaking his head. 

 

“I have questions.” Mingyu says eventually.

 

“I have answers.”

 

“I don’t think I’m ready for them yet,” Mingyu bites his lip, pushing back his hair only for it to flop back onto his forehead. 

 

Jisoo nods, patient as ever, “Well, whenever you are, I’m here for you.”

 

“Thanks dad.” Mingyu finishes drying the last dish, placing it in the dishwasher to dry, “You should, um, talk to Appa. For me, as a graduation gift. You should hear each other out.”

 

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

 

“I think you should try.”

 

Jisoo stares at him, his wise boy timidly shifting his weight from foot to food. “Bring me some wine, I don’t think I can do this sober.”

 

“Nice try, mister,” Mingyu waggles a finger at him, “you’re only seventeen.” He runs off before Jisoo can smack him with the towel, but it leaves a smile on both their faces, a calm one that makes it seems like things are finally okay.

 

He’s in his room, prepping his young skin with his old man skincare products when he hears a knock on his door.

 

Seungcheol walks in like he owns the room, and, yes, technically he does, but young Seungcheol still commands Jisoo’s attention in ways he thought he had grown immune to.

 

“The kids sent me up here,” he offers in lieu of a greeting, holding out a coffee mug for Jisoo to take. “They said we should talk.”

 

“Yeah, um. It's find if we don’t, um, we can just let it go. I don’t think I have it in me to get into it again with you today.”

 

“I don’t want to fight. Just talk. I promise.”

 

Jisoo grimaces, burning his tongue on the hot coffee. “Promises don’t work out too well for us, Cheol.”

 

“Ok, great. I’ll start.” Seungcheol squares his chest and sits on the floor, against the frame of the bed. “I should have come after you.” 

 

“Oh, we’re just starting, okay. Um. Yeah,” Jisoo furrows his brows, “Why didn’t you?”

 

“It wasn’t just moving out of this town or this city, it was the entire country and I didn’t want to make such a sudden change? And then I didn’t know how to tell you and then, you were gone. You actually left, and I didn’t know how to bring you back.

 

“After a while it was easier to feel resentment than to believe I was the reason we didn’t work out.” Seungcheol sighs, sipping from his coffee mug, “I convinced myself that, if you loved me enough, you’d know what I was feeling and you would have come back.” It’s a confession that leaves Jisoo floored, but all Seungcheol can do is sigh. “It was selfish of me. Stupid, really. And I wanted to take it back immediately, but then there were arguments and the divorce papers, and then you and Seokminnie were really gone.” Jisoo can’t help but stare as Seungcheol shakes his head, “Mingyu wouldn’t stop crying, you know? He thought maybe it was his fault. And I let that fuel my anger.”

 

Jisoo’s heart is breaking, and he doesn’t know if it’s because of betrayal or empathy. 

 

“And then at Seokminnie’s graduation, you were there and we were playing house as if nothing had ever happened, and it felt so right, you know? Like we were meant to be together, the four of us, I mean. And it was great- perfect even. But then you left again, and I just felt all that frustration again,” Seungcheol sounds exhausted, hurt, haunted and Jisoo doesn’t know how to help him. “When did we get so bad at this, Shua?”

 

Honestly? He doesn’t know. When did confiding in each other become so hard, when did it become easier to hurt each other than to love each other? They always assumed nothing was ever out of bounds, that everything was fair game, that they could talk to each other about anything. How could that ever change? 

 

“I think I knew.” Jisoo says, “I don’t think I wanted to acknowledge it either. That things were changing between us, that I was changing things between us. But I think I knew that you didn’t want me to take the promotion. And, to be honest, sometimes I don’t know why I did. I thought, maybe if I went, that you would come after me, to be with me. 

 

“And then you didn’t, and I thought about coming home to you everyday, but I felt like, I could wait for you to come to me- That I wouldn’t have to make the next step, because we were still trying to match our paces. And then you stopped calling as much and I stopped hoping, because I thought it was too late.” Jisoo closes his eyes, leaning back against the door. “And then Mingyu stopped calling me Dad and you started hating me and, I don’t know, I was scared. You’ve never made me feel afraid, Cheol. I didn’t know what to do. So I distanced myself. 

 

“We were both so young and stupid and we thought we were capable enough to raise a family but, fucking look at us, Cheol,” Jisoo snorts, desperate to stop thinking, “It took us nearly twenty years to talk about this. We-”

 

“-Do you regret adopting them?” Seungcheol asks quietly, “Do you regret starting a family with me? Because sometimes I wonder if the commitment, the expectation of being tied down drove you to take that job.”

 

Jisoo flinches. It hurts, being reminded of how distant he’s been, to have his regrets and apprehension unintentionally shoved right back in his face.

 

“I was never the father I needed to be. Not the way you are. You never made Seokmin feel like he was anything less than your son, despite how much distance was between the two of you.” Jisoo says carefully, the words feeling heavy as they escape his mouth and echo in the silence enveloping the two men. “I’ve never regretted them-” he smiles, “-my two boys. But I regret not being enough for them.”

 

“He loves you, you know. So much.” Seungcheol reaches out to him, scooting in closer so their knees bump as they sit facing each other. “It’s just been hard for him, I think. He took a lot of his frustration out on you when he was younger and now, I don’t think he knows how to repair the damage.”

 

Jisoo simply lets out a groan.

 

“We’re two grown men stuck as teenagers talking about how we’ve thoroughly fucked up our perfectly wonderful family while drinking coffee because our sons refuse to give us wine,” he shakes his head, “You and me, my friend. We’re a fucking mess.” 

 

Jisoo can’t help but smile at the grin that plays at Seungcheol’s lips. It’s the dangerous sort of smile that makes Jisoo want to kiss him so badly. 

 

“I dunno. I think it builds character,” Seungcheol teases, before his smile drops and his face becomes serious, tense. He gets on his knees and leans in closer, eyes trained on Jisoo’s as one hand supports his body while the other cradles Jisoo’s face. “Can I ask you something?”

 

Jisoo nods, holding his breath.

 

“Would you have taken the job if I had asked you not to?”

 

He thinks for a second. “Back then? Probably. I really wanted it. I thought everything was going right and that was just the next, natural step to take. We should have talked about it, instead of me just jumping the gun. At least we would have known where we stood. Now? I don’t know. I don’t know that I’d want to leave again.”

 

“Why?” 

 

“I don’t think I’d want to leave you again.”

 

“I don’t think I’d be able to let you leave again.”

 

Seungcheol’s cheeks are a little red, and Jisoo can’t help but close the gap between them for a kiss. He takes great pleasure in watching the elder sputter and regain his wits.

 

“That was-” Seungcheol blinks, “Um. That was good. We should, um-”

 

“-Would you keep your promise this time around,” Jisoo cuts him off, pecking him softly as an apologetic afterthought for cutting him off. “If I had to leave, would you follow me?”

 

Seungcheol’s expression shifts from confused to concerned to determined. 

 

“Yeah. Yeah, I would. I’m not really a fan of the alternative.” He gives Jisoo the dangerous smile, and there’s no amount of self control that can stop Jisoo this time. 

 

Between kisses, Jisoo somehow finds himself pressed between Seungcheol’s warm body and the door, his legs outstretched which the elder straddles him.

 

“You know,” Seungcheol kisses him firmly on the lips, letting his forehead rest against Jisoo’s, head tilted up ever so slightly. “We don’t have anymore kids that are graduating, so if we’re going to do something about this-” he drops a kiss to Jisoo’s nose, “-about us, we have to figure it out now. Because I can’t wait till they get married to see you again.” Another kiss, soft and gentle, is placed on his neck, “I don’t want to.”

 

Holding seventeen year old Seungcheol’s body to him is nostalgic in a way that makes him never want to let go. 

 

Jisoo realizes something. He doesn’t want to turn back time anymore. Doesn’t want to do it all over again. Sure, he may avoid heartbreak and right some wrongs, but more than anything, he just wants a second chance. A second chance to fall in love. A second chance to be a good father. A second chance to be happy.

 

He wants a second chance so he can do it right. 

 

He thinks that, maybe, this is it.

* * *

When Jisoo wakes up the next morning, his joints are sore and he feels a dull throbbing in his knee. He runs his hand through his hair and startles when he feels scalp.

 

He smacks the body next to him excitedly.

 

“Seungcheol,” he yelps, shaking the other man awake, grinning as he continues ruffling his hair.

 

“Mm wha?” Seungcheol’s head pops up, he looks dazed, bleary eyes blinking away the sleep.

 

“Seungcheol, I’m  _ bald, _ ” Jisoo says excitedly.

 

Seungcheol, young Seungcheol, smiles up at him and reaches to cup his cheek. “You’re still beautiful, you know. Always have been.”

 

“You’re still young though,” Jisoo huffs, slapping Seungcheol’s hand away, scooting off the bed. 

“Mingu,” he shouts, “I’m old again, what does this mean?”

 

He hears a shout in response and then the door swings open to Mingyu dragging Seokmin inside. 

 

“Oh hey, Appa. You’re already he-” Mingyu’s nose scrunches, “Oh gross. I told you to just talk.”

 

Seokmin shudders before launching himself at Jisoo, with a loud, “Twinkle Toes, you are my father once more.” He pulls Jisoo in for a hug, “I missed you. Well, you were here but it was weird and you were you but not really you. Anyway, what I’m saying is it’s good to have you back and creaky.”

 

Mingyu nods, “It’s probably a twenty four hour thing. Meaning, Appa, when did you turn boxy?”

 

Seungcheol glares ineffectively, “Can we stop with the box names, I know I’ve let myself go. It comes with divorce and two sons.”

 

“Also baldness,” Jisoo pipes up, before sitting down next to Seungcheol’s head. “I think you’re pretty good looking an old man.”

 

“See that,” he points a finger at his son, “Twinkly, over here, thinks I’m a stud.”

 

Jisoo smacks him lightly, rolling his eyes.

 

“Relax Boxy.”

 

They both exchange a smile before looking over at their sons who are equally grossed out and fond at the same time. 

 

“Just, when did the youngness happen for you?” Mingyu rushes out. 

 

“I dunno. Like noon?” Seungcheol shrugs, “I was kind of asleep.”

 

Mingyu rolls his eyes, “Well hopefully it wears off by two, or Dad can babysit three boys.”

 

Jisoo slowly takes his hands off Seungcheol.

 

Seokmin jabs him in the side, ignoring his yelp, “You made it weird.”

 

Despite rubbing his side with a pout, Mingyu doesn’t look the least bit apologetic.

 

* * *

Sure enough, a little after noon, Seungcheol falls to the floor in pain, yelping and twitching and no one goes to help him because they’re too busy noticing the grey recolor his hair, and the muscles un-tone, and the smile lines come back tenfold. 

 

Jisoo thinks he’s never looked more beautiful.

 

He’s laying on the ground, groaning, when Seokmin pokes him with a fork. 

 

“Appa, you okay?” Seokmin pokes him again.

 

Mingyu chimes in, “Yeah, I’m the last son to graduate, are you really going to miss that because you’re old and ailing?”

 

Slowly, pitifully, Jisoo watches Seungcheol pull himself to a standing position and point right at him.

 

“Do you still love me?”

 

Jisoo blinks, “Yes?” 

 

As if he even needs to ask. 

 

Seungcheol nods and marches up to him, kissing him so surely there’s no room for doubt.

 

“Okay, we can go now.” He claps twice and heads towards the kitchen to grab the car keys.

 

Mingyu and Seokmin look at their father, who’s still standing frozen. They look at each other before grabbing each of his arms and pulling him to the garage.

 

Seungcheol drives like a madman, no regards for limits or safety, but Jisoo can’t complain because Mingyu’s almost ten minutes late for the ceremony and trying to find parking this late is horrendous. He legs it out of the car while the rest of them find a parking spot in who knows where, and make it back to the stadium in time for the beginning of the ceremony. 

 

When Mingyu walks across the stage, diploma sleeve in hand, Seokmin is cheering the loudest, flanked by his parents who are multitasking between shooting apologetic glances to neighboring families, taking candids of their son, and cheering rather embarrassingly themselves.

 

“Do you think we’re taking this too fast,” Jisoo asks, looking at their intertwined hands, while Seokmin runs ahead to find Mingyu. 

 

Seungcheol squeezes his hand slightly, “I think we’ve taken things way too slow.”

 

They weave through the crowd, finding their sons by the entrance only looking a little lost and all too happy.

 

“We did well with them.” Jisoo decides, pulling his three boys in for a group picture.

 

He finally got it right. 

* * *

“Doesn’t it bother you all that we don’t know why it happened?” Seungcheol asks them at dinner.

 

Seokmin sighs, shaking his head, “Appa, I already told you it was the bathtub wizard.”

 

Mingyu nods, “You and Dad kissed and now you’re old again. That has to be the most logical explanation.”

 

Jisoo stares at them in disbelief, “What’s the wizard’s name?”

 

Seokmin and Mingyu look at each other, and then him.

 

“Well, the next time you take a shower in there, you should just ask him yourself,” Mingyu says, matter-of-factly.

 

“It’s basic courtesy,” Seokmin nods.

 

Seungcheol and Jisoo both look at the two boys, who look unfairly giddy. 

 

“Go to your rooms. You’re grounded.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i hope u enjoyed this!! thank you for reading it <3 
> 
> (love u sica)
> 
> joshu's gonna bald and coupsie's gonna have a dadbod sry i put it out into the universe


End file.
